


Blood and Smoke

by Melusine10



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies), Thor (Movies), True Blood
Genre: Bromance, Epic rivalry, Gen, keepyourfangstoyourself, noyoukeepyourmagictoyourself
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-07-18
Updated: 2015-08-09
Packaged: 2018-04-10 00:23:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,837
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4370039
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Melusine10/pseuds/Melusine10
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Godric encountered the Norse God of Mischief one night not long after Eric was turned. Godric and the god may have struck a deal, but will Loki honor it? And what trouble will it bring? Takes place pre-Dallas (in TB) and pre-New York (in Avengers).</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

PART ONE

Godrík trudged uphill through the dense forest. Here the bare winter trees were exposed to the howling sea. They knelt like priests, bowed to the ground, while their fleshy bark peeled away, raw and leather-like, toward the edges of their windward backs. This far north, in the territory they called Svealand, the snow came in rivers. It pounded down in angry torrents and piled up in great mounds. It caught about the tree trunks and hardened into sagging, crusted skirts. The entire world seemed girdled in ice.

Not even the Alps of Gaul were so desolate, for here almost all of the day was enveloped by night. Only once before had he ever seen such unyielding cold. Many centuries ago he had ventured through the jungles and monsoon swamps of India until he reached an impassible fortress of mountains. He had dared to climb them and was intrigued to discover small clutches of humans clinging to their cliffs, eking out a meagre existence amidst the rugged peaks. Even more curious was the realization that none of his kind could be bothered to do the same. In Svealand, like the Himalayas, he was a lone blood drinker on a forgotten fringe of the globe.

Though not entirely alone. Not anymore. Godrík had finally found a companion worth turning. He did not mind that he had to hunt the outskirts of settlements and slog through trenches of snow to reach these outposts. The colossal, lion of warrior he had brought into darkness could barely slake his thirst. Each night his progeny needed three or four healthy humans while he himself subsisted off the elderly and the infirm. It was not quite a miscalculation on his part, but if they were not careful, they would kill off all the nearby villages before winter's end and be forced to move. Godrík had no interest in leaving this unclaimed territory, especially if it meant crossing into another vampire's turf so soon.

He made the trek back to the cave they called home at a languid pace. With each patient step, his leg sunk up to his knee. The barren forest had nothing with which to fashion a quick pair of snowshoes and he did not bother to fly the league and a half to where Eiríkr waited. Better to conserve energy. The salty, frostbitten sailor he'd caught by the neck tonight offered little sustenance and he was still dangerously hungry. Godrík had poured every last drop of his power into his child's transformation. A millennium of death fused into the soul of the fiercest, most fearless fighter he had ever seen and Eiríkr had arisen unparalleled in strength and beauty. The Norseman radiated the same vivaciousness Godrík had witnessed in the battle that had claimed his life. It was a feat – the greatest achievement of his long life. But it had left him drained to his very core. Worse still, he found he quite enjoyed the secret pleasures of feeding Eiríkr his blood. Several times already he had given him substantial draughts that ultimately negated much of his own recovery.

As Godrík came over the crest of the hill, he let himself tumble down toward the valley below in wide, bounding leaps. The trees here opened into a flat, undulating ring. He was almost certain most of the terrain was a frozen pond. He could hear the fish deep below the surface slowly fluttering their gills.

Instinct told him to stick to the cover of forest, but the snowdrifts at the water's edge were high. The windswept surface of the ice sheet was tempting and he chose the path of least resistance. Halfway across the clearing, he heard a sudden crack. Godrík instantly dropped into a defensive crouch and froze. Several moments passed and no other sound issued forth. He eased out of his position and took a few wary steps. In the tree line ahead, his keen eyesight caught a shadowy movement. He paused. There was another crunch. Totally exposed, he could either take to the sky or make a run for it. In all likelihood, it was an elk. The movement continued westward. The shadows shifted and he made out the faint outlines of horns. He exhaled in relief. Then the wind changed direction and the creature's scent hit him. It was wrong – no, not wrong - intoxicating, delicious, and utterly alien. Godrík's fangs slammed out unbidden.

A swirl of black and green smoke twisted before him and a tall, lithe man appeared, a heavy cape billowing around his broad, armored shoulders and a golden helmet crowned with two enormous horns.

"You are truly annoying to track down, blood drinker," the stranger quipped.

"Who are you!" Godrík hissed, backing away.

A thin smile snaked across the man's razor-like features and he gave a shallow bow. "I am Loki – of Asgard."

The vampire narrowed his eyes. "What are you?" he demanded.

"Why a god, of course. Now put those fangs away before someone gets hurt."

Godrík tried to identify the stranger's otherworldly scent. The being was ancient, older than any supernatural he had ever encountered by millennia, and he was cloaked in extraordinarily powerful magic. There was no denying that he was something…different.

"Asgard," he confirmed, knowing his child's stories of the World Tree and its nine realms. "You are the Trickster."

"I am a prince first among many other titles, wildling, and I'd caution you to mind your tongue."

"What business have you here?"

"I would speak with you. Come, let us walk." The god turned his back and headed north. Godrík quickly tabulated the weapons he saw glint in the other man's armor. He had little choice but to follow.

"How does your progeny fare?" Loki asked, raven hair whipping in long tendrils about his face. He held out a friendly arm, but Godrík balked, keeping several paces away.

"What is your interest in my child?" he asked suspiciously.

"None at all. I ask on behalf of my mother, Queen Frigga."

Godrík swallowed in alarm. "He is strong for one so young."

"Does he mind you?"

"Mostly."

The god snorted in amusement.

"And you are teaching him what he needs to know in order to survive?"

The vampire stopped short. "I will not give him up!"

Loki rolled his eyes. "Good. Ensure that he survives the ages. Mother was most perturbed that one of her more devoted mortals did not come to Valhalla at the appointed hour."

Godrík growled at the thinly veiled threat. "Or what? Thor will come down to destroy me?"

"Thor!? By the Norns, no. He could care less…" He paused, seeing the confusion in the brunette's face. "Oh. You assumed...No, the Norseman made his personal sacrifices to Frigga." Loki raised a smug eyebrow.

"This Frigga, she watches us? What does she want?"

"I believe her exact words were 'see that my stolen warrior is in good hands.' Why she bothers with Midgardians I'll never understand, but she does." Loki gave a sidelong glance at the vampire next to him. "So is he? In good hands, that is?"

"What do you think?" he retorted.

Loki seemed to consider this for a moment. "You are older than I realized."

"About a thousand. Maybe more. You?"

"Four thousand three hundred and eighty-six."

Godrík's eyes widened. "Have you any progeny yourself?"

The god shook his head. "No, no children, despite the ridiculous myths. Between my royal duties and my practice in sorcery, I do not have time for such diversions."

"You are a powerful mage, I can tell."

Loki acknowledged the compliment with a small smile. "You have an old enchantment on your bicep. Did you once practice the craft?" His long, pale finger hovered over the curve of Godrík's tunic where the runes etched in his skin lay hidden.

Godrík nodded slowly. It was a secret no one knew. "I was an initiate."

"Shame to abandon it," Loki said through a sigh. "I am fascinated how such a spell could survive a vampire's transformation. I don't believe I've seen something like that before."

Godrík's features had gone blank and the god saw the blood drinker had no intention of allowing him to inspect it.

"How long will you keep Eiríkr here in the north?" he asked, changing the subject.

"I don't know," Godrík replied, uncomfortable with the sound of his child's name in the sorcerer's mouth.

The god clucked his tongue. "That's a lie. Try again."

Godrík huffed. "I have not decided, but for as long as I can keep him distracted here. There is little entertainment and he is eager to see more of the world. He does not yet respect just how dangerous the world is for our kind."

"That's more like it."

The two chatted politely, both clearly untrusting, attempting to size the other up, but curious about one another as well. Loki kept a close eye on the vampire. He was struggling to control his thirst.

"I may smell inviting, but I guarantee that you don't want god's blood. It would overpower the forces which animate you."

Godrík refused to meet his gaze, consciously forcing his fangs to stay retracted, hands clenched in the fur-lined folds of his cloak.

"But you are hungry and you are weakened from your creation, are you not?"

The shorter man shrugged noncommittally.

"Do you deny it out of stubbornness or pride?"

Godrík turned to the tall man. "Out of secrecy," he said and Loki laughed, pleased.

With a twist of his hand and a curlicue of mist, a vial appeared in his hand. "Frigga made this especially for you. She asks that you remember to keep yourself strong in order to protect the Norseman."

Godrík scoffed. "Do you take me for a fool? I will not drink some potion from Loki Liesmith."

Loki gave a feral grin. "Then good thing it isn't from Loki Liesmith. Now hurry up. I have other things to accomplish tonight."

Godrík snatched the vial from his palm. "I'll take it when I return home."

"Another lie, Godrík Deathbringer. But I must say, I like your style."

Their eyes locked and for a second the vampire considered the ramifications of an attack and its possible outcomes.

Loki saw the smaller man's calculating eyes narrow and he started laughing again, then clapped Godrík on the back. "Oh, I do so like your style. It is a simple healing tonic suspended in Light Elf blood. Take it. You will not be disappointed."

Godrík rolled the vial between his fingers, wary, but intrigued by the tonic's qualities.

"Is it anything like Fae blood?" he wondered.

"Ooh, much better. Or so I hear. Now if you'll excuse me…" The vortex of smoke began to rise around Loki's feet.

"Wait," Godrík barked.

Loki turned his hands down, halting his teleportation.

"I have questions," Godrík explained. "About your sorcery. About Asgard and the other realms…"

"No doubt. And questions they must remain."

"But then how will you learn how spells can live on the dead?" he countered.

Loki pursed his lips, considering the request. "Care for your progeny. When he has fledged fully, then perhaps we shall speak more some night."

A crooked smile splayed across Godrík's face. "I shall not forget."

"No, I don't suppose you will. Fare thee well, Godrík.

"Prince Loki," he replied, giving the swirl of the god's magic wide berth.

The Baltic winds snatched the strange smoke away, obliterating it into thin air, and once again Godrík stood alone on the frozen plain of the pond.


	2. Part Two

Part Two

Eric's phone rang late one humid summer night. He'd stayed at Fangtasia long after the club had shut down in order to deal with this month's inventory lists. The cellphone jangled in the pocket of his black jeans and he ignored it until he felt a familiar pull in the center of his chest. It could only be one person calling.

"Godric," he murmured into the receiver.

"Good evening child. I trust you are well?"

"Other than this shitpile of paperwork I'm staring at? Fantastico."

"How's my grandbaby?"

They both chuckled conspiratorially at the moniker. Pamela despised it.

"I'm letting her tackle some of the lower priority sheriff's duties now. She excels at her work."

Pride coursed through their supernatural bond. Maker and child had remained unusually devoted. Even after a thousand years, Godric chose to settle in Dallas, a short flight away from Eric's home in Shreveport. The distance was ideal – nearby yet not so close that it was stifling to one another.

"I called to tell you that I will be traveling."

"Okay," Eric said, confused as to why his maker was telling him this. Godric often wandered. "Do you want me to go with you?" he wondered.

"No, I am afraid you cannot join me on this journey."

Eric sat up in his office chair, alarmed. "What's going on?"

"I only wanted to tell you that you mustn't worry for me while I am away. Eric? As your maker, I command it." The order struck shivers through Eric's spine and he blinked several times in surprise. He had not felt a maker's command in many decades. "I promise I will return. I only wanted to warn you in case you feel our bond sever temporarily. My travel plans may affect it. You do not need to be concerned. I will come back."

This was truly one of the stranger commands Godric had ever given him.

"Where are you going?" he demanded.

"On an adventure," Godric said, sounding unusually ebullient. "To another realm."

"Vad?" Eric screeched, forgetting his English. "Where!?"

There was a momentary pause on the other end of the line.

"To Asgard," Godric replied and promptly hung up.

Eric sat staring dumbfounded at his phone. The rest of the night he frantically tried calling his maker back, but true to form, Godric refused to answer. He would reveal exactly what he wanted in his own time. Unable to feel the concern for his maker that his head told him he should, Eric could only turn over the possibilities in his mind until the sun took him for the day.

~~~OOO~~~

Three days prior, the knock at the door in Dallas had been entirely unremarkable.

"Stan," Godric had called. "Stan, door!" he'd repeated in aggravation. When his underling had not bothered to stop feeding from his donor, he had seen to it himself. It could have been anyone allowed to pass the security gate – a delivery man, one of the cleaning ladies, a subject needing his aid.

Instead, it was a god.

The scent of magic slammed into his senses the moment he pulled the door open. Godric stumbled back several steps. Somewhere in the back of his mind screamed the thought that he was being attacked by witches. Then a hand caught him by the wrist and roughly yanked him up upright. Godric first saw the glint of the gold vambrace, then the soaring gilded horns. His eyes snapped into focus.

"Loki," he gasped.

The god grinned like a shark.

"Is everything alright, Godric?" Isabel called from her office.

"Leave, Isabel," he ordered. "Immediately. Take everyone out the back. Do not return until I call for you." He smoothed his cashmere sweater nervously and backed into the hallway. When he heard the last of his retinue exit, he invited the deity inside. Loki stepped across the threshold and his armor evaporated into a dark green asymmetrical tunic and leather pants. He looked around curiously and began to explore, first passing through the unused dining room and then into the living areas. Godric followed him, speechless.

"This is rather an upgrade, I should think, given where you lived last we spoke." Loki's fingertips traced the curved back of a Danish modern chair.

"Yes." It certainly was more comfortable than a cave.

"A bit sterile, though."

Godric shrugged. "It is just a house."

Loki's eyes glinted mischievously.

"Please, have a seat," Godric offered.

The god sat and Godric took the place opposite him. They stared at each other in silence for tense minutes. Loki finally shifted in the chair and broke his gaze to inspect his glossy nails.

The god no longer looked like a young prince. His edges had hardened and there were faint creases around his eyes and mouth.

"You have aged," Godric observed.

"So have you." Before the vampire could protest, Loki continued. "It's in the eyes."

Godric swallowed and gave a slight nod. If he'd had a heartbeat, it would be racing. Out of exhilaration or fear, he wasn't sure. Perhaps both. He hadn't felt so alert in a century. He made a mental check on his bond with Eric and was reassured to find that it was still carefully muted.

"So you have returned to Midgard. We call it planet Earth now, you know."

"It seemed as good a time as any. I am bored."

"I'm afraid I am not as entertaining as I once was."

"Hmm. So I hear. My scrying bowl has revealed much about you lately. Reformed and contrite, is it? No longer The Boy Death?"

"Something like that."

"How droll."

Godric's mouth twitched. "What trouble were you hoping to stir up here?"

Loki ignored the question. "I've never cared for this realm. It is the backwater of Yggdrasil. Undeveloped. Technology that barely counts as such. You don't even have a ruler."

"I would have thought you'd be pleased by that latter part. Or are you no longer the God of Chaos?"

Loki snorted and tossed his jet black hair. He wore it slightly past his shoulders now. "I was born to rule, vampire. Of course I am in favor of authority: my own. And you? This 'job' of yours certainly poses no challenges to you. Why bother?"

"My sheriffdom is merely for convenience. It requires very little effort on my part, as you say, and it affords me the autonomy I require."

"But what is the point of freedom if you do nothing with it?" Loki countered. "How can you stand it here? What do you do to pass your eternal time?"

Godric smiled. "I believe you're building me up for an argument. How about cut to the chase?"

"What's the fun in that?" he said, raising an eyebrow. "Do you have any single malt Scotch? Or is it no longer customary to offer guests a drink?"

"The liquor cabinet is in that buffet. Help yourself. I haven't the first clue what is in there."

When the god returned, he pulled his chair closer to Godric. The vampire's fangs begged to drop at his guest's maddening scent. Strangely, it was worse than when he had first encountered him one thousand years ago. Godric was perturbed to find he had not mastered his hunger as fully as he had believed. Or perhaps it was that he had gone too long on synthetic blood. Either way, the proximity tested his restraint.

"I have a proposition."

"I see. Let's hear it, then."

"Your Scotch is top quality – for mortal fare."

"And you are dawdling."

Loki hummed into the cut crystal glass and set it slowly on a side table.

"Come to Asgard with me."

Godric laughed out loud.

"I'm not joking," Loki said soberly.

It sent Godric into complete stitches. He held his sides, eyes misting red. "You," he said between wheezy gasps, "you want me to go to another realm?!"

"Yes."

"With you."

"Yes."

Where you have no idea how its environment will affect me?"

"Yes."

"Where there are no humans to feed upon?" He was laughing like a lunatic. "Without the means or knowledge to return?"

"Yes, damn you!" Loki shouted and stood.

Godric wiped his eyes. "Oh, dear god. That is a rich proposition indeed."

Loki glared at him angrily. "Your hospitality is desperately wanting. Do you think I flit about making such offers to anyone?"

Godric touched the back of Loki's arm and gestured for him to calm down. He was reminded of the words his child once spoke when he had been offered something equally absurd (by him, no less).

"What's in it for me?" he asked.

"Don't be ridiculous. I offer you the stars. A chance to see what no Midgardian has ever seen. Other worlds, Godrík, think of that." Loki purred his name in the old tongue, as if this would somehow convince him to make a hasty decision. Godric sat impassively. Loki shifted tactics.

"I cannot teach you magic on this hunk of rock you call a realm. My library is incomparable, as are my labs, and neither are accessible here."

"Then you want me as your apprentice? I've never taken direction well and, as you'll recall, I was interested in your magic, not my own. I've no talent in the subject. Or have you forgotten that I'm dead?"

"Take it or leave it. I'm in no mood for gaming," he spat, growing hostile.

Godric's fangs dropped and within a flash he was inches from the god's face. "You are in no position to bargain, godling," he hissed.

Loki's eyes grew slightly wide but he schooled his features seamlessly into a mocking sneer. "My, did you get this close to show off those pretty eyes?"

Godric was caught off guard. The momentary falter was a mistake. Loki pounced, morphing his teeth to mimic the vampire's fangs and he bit into the flesh of his host's forearm. Godric howled in pain and shock and struck Loki with a hard blow that sent him flying.

Godric growled as he clamped a hand over the wound while it healed.

Loki was splayed against the picture window overlooking the lawn, his pin-neat hair now mussed. He darted his tongue out to lap the wet blood smeared on his lips. "Mmm. Delicious. I've no idea why I hadn't tried that earlier."

"You fool! You barge into my home and attack me? Drink my blood without invitation? You do realize I can influence you now!?"

"Psssh. You cannot expect that your…"

Godric focused all his mental powers at the god.

"Oh! I believe I felt that," A devious smile curled across his mouth. "Do it again."

The vampire flared his nostrils, ready to rend the maddening man to pieces if need be. He unleashed his fury at the thin tendril of vampire blood he felt in the others' system.

"Oooh," Loki said in a low voice. "I am supposed to be terrified of you, but you're sending me this impulse, yes? It's like a roiling volcano about to explode. You do know I am also the God of Fire, right? I like this. Show me more."

Godric balled his fists and fell into a defensive stance. Loki stalked toward him, unfazed.

"I see there is wildling in you yet."

"Shut up," Godric barked.

"Shhh now. Neither of us respond well to threats. I did not come to quarrel."

"Stay back!" he threatened, crouching lower.

The flick of the sorcerer's hand was as fast as Godric could move. The god had anticipated that he would fake right and then dart left towards the front door. All it took was a glancing touch across his chest. The magic raced through Godric's torso, warming him from the inside out, spreading like wildfire all the way into the tips of his ears and his toes. He dropped to the floor like a felled tree. For nearly a minute he grasped at the carpet as he writhed and gasped for useless air.

When he finally came around, Loki had refilled his glass with a generous pour and was relaxing in his armchair.

"You…you bastard!" Godric choked out at his feet.

"No need to call names, dear boy."

Godric rolled to his knees, disheveled and out of sorts. He smoothed down his sweater and ran his fingers through his hair. "What the hell was that?"

Loki shrugged. "Tit for tat. You give me volcanoes, I give you fire. I told you. I didn't come here to hurt you."

He hadn't hurt him - technically. He'd only shot Godric with a shock of pleasure so strong it virtually paralyzed him.

"So you, you what? Seek to shame me? Steal my blood and force my gratification?"

"I think you look rather pleased." His eyes flickered down to the damp bulge in his pants.

Godric's teeth were still bared, but he clutched his own arms protectively – the reflex of someone whose body had been violated. "How dare you. Get out." He turned his back to the god.

"Godric," he replied silkily. "I meant no harm. Don't you see how equally matched we are? In strength? In intellect? Imagine the possibilities. We have so much to learn from each other!"

"GET OUT!" Godric screamed, rattling the paintings on the walls.

Loki bristled in shock. The vampire was truly angry. He had made a grave misstep. Abandoning his drink, he strode smoothly toward the entryway. He paused to sneak in the last word, but Godric beat him to the punch.

"You may wear the horns of a devil, Loki Odinson, but you've shown yourself to be nothing more than a court jester."

The god visibly shrunk at the insult, his regal carriage melting into something akin to a kicked dog. "Now get out of my home before I kill you for your trespasses and don't you dare come back until you have something of consequence to offer."

Loki left silently in a sudden breeze that slammed shut the heavy front door.

~~~OOO~~~

The next night, Godric sat perched on a stool in the breakfast nook of the kitchen. He pinched the bridge of his nose, having lost track of the passage he was reading yet again. His day rest had been filled with hazy, fitful dreams: of his past, of Loki, of worlds beyond his reach. If he didn't currently have the mercurial god rumbling around in the back of his mind as proof positive of the previous evening, he might not actually believe that Loki had shown up unannounced after a millennium, forged a weak blood bond to him out of foolish impulse, and zapped him with orgasmic magic. He had such mixed feelings about the entire episode he did not even bother trying to disentangle them. At least Loki seemed to feel remorseful, if he was indeed reading the bond correctly. Being tied to a god was a novel experience. At times he could swear the being was in great pain, at others, full of loss. The deeply buried cruel streak in Godric hoped the jerk had been hit by a semi-truck on the beltway as he left. Alas, that was most likely not the case.

Godric finally managed to finish the page when a light thudding tap at the window broke his fragile concentration. "You have got to be kidding me," he grumbled and glanced up.

'May I?' Loki mouthed.

"NO!" he yelled hoarsely and returned to his reading.

"Hear me out," his smooth voice requested. The raven haired man was standing in the middle of the kitchen in a collared black tunic and a broad shouldered overcoat. So much for knocking.

Godric slammed his book shut, sending a puff of dust into the air. Loki could see the title. The Nine Worlds.

"I came to apologize for my beastly behavior."

"You think I care…"

"…And to offer you this." He opened his leather gloved hand to reveal a large blue stone. He set it on the table carefully and pulled off his gloves, one finger at a time.

"What do I want with a rock?"

Loki gave a guarded chuckle, then spoke in a barely audible whisper at Godric's ear. "That is no rock, Sheriff. It is an Infinity Stone. One of a kind in the entire universe."

"What does it do?"

"It is capable of every imaginable power of the mind."

Godric slumped down to the edge of the table to get a better view of it. "It only smells very faintly of magic."

"It works by touch, which is why you must never, ever make direct contact with it."

The pebble seemed unremarkable.

"Godric?"

"Hnnn?"

"Never. It will destroy you."

"Okay." He straightened. "So why bring it here?"

"To apologize, as I said, and to renew my offer."

Godric studied him. There was a faint dappling of sweat across his brow.

"What is wrong with you?"

Loki laughed outright. "Oh, where should I begin?"

"No. I mean something pains you. What is it?"

The gods' eyes dropped, shielded behind long fringes of inky lashes. "You think I've come here like a cheap swindler and dropped a hokey contrivance before you. Trust me, this is no trick. If I could rewrite history and undo what it cost me to acquire this wretched thing, I would."

"Right, well. Good luck. I think you'd best be on your way." Godric reached over to toss the rock at Loki. The god caught his hand in mid-air before he could touch the stone with a swift, crushing grip and he held him there. His face was contorted with sheer panic and terror. The skin-to-skin contact intensified Godric's weak blood tie to the deity and suddenly flashes of images crashed through his mind: a grotesque hooded creature, wickedly thin knives covered in gore, the sound of Loki's screaming.

"Ah!" Godric gasped, wrenching away. He clasped his head between two hands. He was no stranger to such scenes. Many times over he'd been a deliverer of such vile injustice and a receiver of the same treatment. He had hoped never to witness such violence again - from any perspective.

"You see?"

A low guttural growl poured out of his throat. "You villain! You use this object to manipulate me!"

"No!" Loki gestured for him to wait. He stood and unclasped his overcoat and with a twist of his hand, it vanished. He turned towards the large window. He couldn't look the vampire in the eyes and reveal himself. When he gestured again, his vest and tunic were gone, leaving him bare from the waist up.

Loki's back was a catastrophe, striped in too many angry welting patterns to count. The god watched Godric's reaction in the reflection of the glass. The younger man did not flinch.

"You are a shape shifter. You morphed last night. These could be more illusions." The heady scent of god's blood so near the surface of the skin contradicted that idea. Godric's near inability to control himself last night now made more sense. He didn't dare inhale.

Loki's head dropped along with his shoulders. "Last night these were still raw. Your blood healed them. I didn't know it would do that..." He turned to face Godric, hands upturned, pleading. His lean, muscled torso had fared no better. No inch of flesh had gone unattended by his torturer.

"A clever illusion, to be sure," Godric accused.

Loki's face darkened. "You think I would do this to myself voluntarily? I feel my illusions, vampire. I wouldn't wish this on anyone." Droplets of sweat trickled down his temples. He reeked of fear and pain. Surely he didn't understand that Godric could detect emotions through his pores.

The vampire touched a swollen cut across his shoulder. "Ye gods," he swore. Even the lightest pressure would rip the fragile, puckered tissue open. Godric shivered. He had seen his own kind die quickly from half as many wounds.

Loki flinched at the contact and magicked his clothes back in place before the scrutiny could continue. "There is no lie about the disgrace you see before you, Godric. I once helped you when you were weak. May I call on you to return the favor?"

Godric bit his cheek. He knew Loki was capable of great deception. But great lies could only be born of the most sophisticated understanding of the truth. They were two sides of the same coin. A millennium ago, Loki had not deceived him. The healing potion he had given him renewed his strength and more. It had further enhanced his gifts. Not long after, he would need every last ounce of his powers. The very first vampires he and young Eric had encountered tried to kill them. The potion had likely saved both their lives.

"What do you want from me, truly? No more attempts at flattery. You saw how poorly that went last night."

"Respite. I only ask for a bit of calm before the storm."

"Come. Let's talk about what 'calm' means to the God of Chaos. And put that thing away." Loki nodded and tossing a glove over the stone, banished it to his magic closet.

The vampire popped a blood into the microwave, giving an apologetic look at his uninvited guest. "You know where the cabinet is." Loki left to fix himself a drink.

They sat together in the living room, sipping their blood and whiskey. The only sound was the soothing tick of a clock. Neither ancient felt the need to fill the silence for some time.

"Explain," Godric finally asked. "From the beginning,"

"I fell."

"Literally or figuratively?

"Must you interrupt me already?" Loki rasped.

"Apologies. Continue."

"I literally fell during a battle from the bridge that connects Asgard to the other realms. I fell between space, between time…and I slipped into the abyss between the branches below Yggdrasil. That creature you saw was one of the ones who found me. You know what ensued. I have no idea how long I languished in their hands. I was given the mind stone and sent back to Midgard."

"You were sent on a mission."

Loki's clenched his jaw. "You are too clever for your own good."

"Takes one to know one," he jested weakly.

"The task is to use it. Me, you, anyone foolish enough to activate it. It's a lodestar, you see…" his voice faltered. "A beacon for the one who truly wields it."

"I see. What is this leader after?"

"One thing and one thing only: death."

Godric swallowed. He knew all too well what it was to be driven by death.

"I can only delay for so long. I need to heal, Godric. I need rest. I need an ally who can help me think through the most powerful magic I know to come up with some sort of escape. Some solution to this…this…"

"Clusterfuck," Godric supplied. It was a term he'd often heard his grandprogeny use.

Loki flopped back in the chair, swiveling it in a circle. "Keep the cursed stone for me. Hide it. I need it as leverage to survive when their leader comes for me. You will hold my life in your hands as I will watch over yours if you come to Asgard. I already know you'd sooner die than give up a secret; not even I can say that of myself. It will ensure your safe return."

Godric gave a little huffing laugh. "Silvertongue."

Loki looked up at him, taking no pleasure in the title.

"You must have been given a way to control the stone, even temporarily. Last night you hinted at your disgust that Midgard lacks a leader. Is your plan to become ours?"

Loki sucked in a ragged breathe and gazed off into the distance. "It is to be my reward."

Godric clucked his tongue and shook his head in disgust. "I cannot allow that."

"Then help me stop this," Loki pleaded in no more than a whisper. His knuckles turned white as he dug his fingernails into the leather of the seat.

"I don't see how being at your side as you plot to take over my planet will help."

"The Rainbow Bridge is still broken – destroyed by Thor during my fall. Your blood can heal me enough to ensure our safe transport through the forgotten paths of Yggdrasil. They are ancient and unmaintained."

"Find another vampire to drain then."

Loki eyed him. "There are no other vampires who owe me a debt. I know of none so clever as you, nor as ancient."

Godric raised his eyebrows. "By all accounts I owe Frigga a debt, not you. She must have seen well into my future to know how necessary that potion would be."

"Then do this for Frigga. Please. If only to save her son from a fate worse than death. She thinks I'm dead, Godric. Everyone does."

Godric sighed. Was he actually considering going along with this insane plan?

"How many suns does Asgard have?" he asked quietly.

"Just one. Our day is slightly longer there, but our night is too. "

"And the night is totally dark?"

"Save for the best view of the universe you've ever seen? Yes."

"What if the atmosphere does not blot out the rays of the stars…"

"Aesir do not get sunburns. In fact, I've never seen a creature from any Realm suffer the elements in Asgard. I believe it is safe. Perhaps more so than here."

Godric contemplated this for a long moment.

"It won't be any trouble to bring along human blood and anything else you might require. It would only be a matter of weeks - a month if you like it."

"You have given me much to consider. Leave me now and return tomorrow."

Loki rose with a regal elegance. He offered his hand. "I am forgiven, then?"

Godric snorted and made no move to reciprocate. "You violate the sanctity of my person again and I will hunt you down until the end of time."

Loki frowned. "Fair enough. It was a mistake to think you'd be drawn to the charms desired by lesser beings." Loki hesitated, then added, "I suspect you will feel at home in the Realm of the Gods, Godric."

~~~OOO~~~

On the third night since Loki's reappearance, the god showed up shortly after sunset on the front stoop of Godric's home.

"Door is open!" Godric called from his office. "Not that it would stop you," he added under his breath. The vampire was in the midst of prioritizing a set of files and transferring funds to his Second in Command in the event of his absence. At present, he was still very much on the fence about his final decision.

Loki swaggered in and glanced around the work space. He plopped in the seat in front of the desk where Godric stood working and kicked his feet up. "Hello."

Godric glared at the boots on his furniture. "Libertine."

Loki ignored him and continued to examine the room. A short sword was hung on a placard on the wall and a series of photographs and miniature portraits were lined up along a narrow table. A bell cloche near the end of the row of pictures caught his eye.

"A fan of The Thunderer are we?" Inside the glass display dome hung a brass Mjölnir, a symbol of his brother's weapon of choice. It looked quite old.

"It was Eric's," Godric explained.

Subconsciously Loki's hand went to his mouth, his fingers covering the tiny pinpoint scars that dotted the rim of his lips. They were invisible until one was up close, as Godric had been when he nearly throttled the god two nights ago. According to legend, Loki had acquired them when his mouth was sewn up as punishment for tricking the finest metalsmiths on Niðavellir out of their enchanted hammer. He had given it to his brother as a gift.

"Was it worth it?" Godric asked.

"What?" Loki replied, feigning ignorance.

Godric merely gave him a pointed look.

Loki scowled. "It did not happen like in your silly Midgardian book of lies."

"No doubt." He hesitated. "I can heal those scars too, you know."

The god said nothing, though it was not lost on Godric that he removed his boots from the edge of the desk.

"Have you decided?" Loki pressed instead.

"No," Godric replied and sat. "I want more details about our proposed 'plan.'"

"Of course. It is straightforward. We'll return quietly to the palace and spend our days reading and talking. There will be plenty of time to explore some of the finer parks and scenic places of Asgard." Loki hummed, struck by a thought. "You'll need a new name. Godmund perhaps?"

Godric laughed. "You'd have me go from 'ruler of gods' to 'protected by a god'? I think not."

"There's not a single person in all of Asgard with such a preposterously blasphemous name. You might as well call yourself Odin Allfather…How about Kjell or Langley?"

The vampire shook off the suggestions. No one was calling him a 'big pot' and he most certainly did not look like a Langley, regardless of how 'long lived' he might be.

"What about Per? Rather fitting given that you're watching over my stone."

"You're fixating on an inconsequential detail. Scale, Loki. Focus on the big picture."

"I am, you insufferable leach," he spat, then held up a hand. "Apologies - that was uncalled for. You speak to me as though you're my equal. I am unused to it."

Godric rolled his eyes. He'd never met a prince that wasn't a primadonna in some form or another, his own child included. "This won't work if you aren't willing to concede that I am your equal in this venture."

"Fine. No one can know you are Midgardian, dead or alive. Understand? Travel between our realms is forbidden. I'll have to say we came from Alfheim. Any oddities about you can be explained by some sort of scandalous mixed parentage that will keep people from openly prying. Perhaps you are a bastard half dark elf, half Aesir. That ought to explain your affinity for evening shadows." Loki laughed, apparently finding the idea hilarious.

"Col," Godric decided. "Call me Col."

Darkness.

"Perfect," Loki purred in his refined accent.

"There is just one exception about my true identity. We will not lie to Frigga."

"I was rather hoping to keep you contained to my apartments while on the royal grounds."

"That is another deal breaker. I must be allowed my freedom - without exception - and I must be introduced to Frigga. I owe her my gratitude."

"Those are two conditions."

"I'm glad you're keeping track."

Loki grunted.

"Is that an affirmative?"

"Yes," he ground out forcibly.

"Do I need to remind you that you are to keep your magic to yourself?"

An impish smile spread across Loki's face. "I shan't use magic or illusions on you, unless it is a most dire matter of our safety."

"Don't make me regret this. Give me the stone. I'll put it somewhere safe when I go out to hunt."

"Feeling peckish, are we?" Loki waggled his eyebrows.

"I need a real meal if I'm to give you another transfusion."

"About that…" Loki rested his chin on steeped fingers and looked up at the ceiling. "You weren't exactly forthcoming about the effects of your blood."

One corner of Godric's mouth curled into a smile. "Interesting dreams lately?"

"One might say that," he replied, looking uncomfortable.

"They will wear off in time. Perhaps quickly since you are not mortal."

"What else?"

Godric spun his pen in his fingers and reclined back. "I can sense your emotions. Determine your location. I knew when you showed up outside my kitchen window and when you were coming here tonight. We already discovered that you can feel me sending you impulses, but that you are not swayed by them, which could be used to communicate in a pinch." He shrugged. "The tie will be helpful in a strange land. Plus, I'm curious to see just how big of a liar you actually are."

Loki studied him. Without a word, he called forth the stone. Glancing at the Mjölnir necklace under the glass case, he conjured a square container. The outlines of it floated mid-air and Loki's mouth moved rapidly, pouring secret words into it. The shape took on a more definite form, flashing bright green and then blue. Carefully, the god pried open one end and, using the loose glove under the stone, scooped the gem inside.

Loki passed the sealed box to Godric. "I believe we have a deal."

Godric nodded.

"Don't lose it," he added nervously.

"I'll be back shortly. Don't rifle through my things - I'll know."

With a blur, the vampire took to the skies, stone safely tucked in the left pocket of his pants. When he landed, Godric was several hundred miles away. He pulled out his cell phone out and dialed his child. They spoke briefly and Eric, in typical fashion, demanded more than he had a right or reason to know. Godric hung up on him. Predictably, it infuriated him. Within minutes, the tall blond came storming out of his club and squealed off in his black sports car. No sooner than the taillights had disappeared down the road did Godric step out from the deep shadows cast by the live oaks that lined the parking lot. Pulling the stone from his pocket, he headed to the rear door of Fangtasia and let himself inside.


	3. Part Three

The living room was lit by a few low lamps and the grey and dark blues of the décor exaggerated the angled shadows of the room.

"I'm back," Godric announced as he slipped through the front door.

"You're out of whiskey," Loki drawled from the couch in the den. His long legs were splayed over the side arm and the backrest and his head propped up with several pillows. At least he'd had the courtesy to take off his boots. They were lined up neatly next to an empty bottle and glass.

"I wasn't gone more than half an hour!" Godric replied in astonishment. "Can you still walk?"

Loki scoffed. "This mortal drink has little effect on me. Normally I wouldn't touch the stuff. Asgardian mead tends to make me…fractious."

"You? Fractious? I can't imagine…"

Loki ignored him and continued crushing the television remote with his thumb, surfing rapidly through the channels without pausing. Although Godric was fairly surprised the god even figured out how to operate the entertainment system, he gently pried the control from his hand and shut the tv off. Loki glanced up at him.

"Well aren't you rosy cheeked. How was supper?"

"Sweaty and rude."

"Mmm. Someday I'd like to watch you take down your prey."

"It is swift and painless. There's nothing really to see."

"Yes, but how to you pick them? Do they even see you coming?"

"A lesson for another day, Loki. We should begin your healing."

The god pulled himself upright, planting his bare feet into the thick carpet. "I am your willing patient. What do I do?"

"You don't bite me again, for starters. Your technique was abominable, never mind non-consensual."

Loki harrumphed. Godric came around to the back of the couch. He lightly rested a hand on Loki's shoulder. The god looked up at the vampire expectantly. Without warning, Godric's fingers twisted into a thick lock of his raven hair and jerked, pinning his head against the couch.

"Do not bite me, do you hear me?"

Loki swallowed, his large Adam's apple bouncing in the exposed column of his throat. "Loud and clear, Sheriff." With a crunch, Godric tore a sizeable gash in his wrist and lowered it over the god's mouth. His tongue darted out to catch the thick, sweet droplets and his cool hands automatically went to pull the arm closer. Godric kept a firm hold on the chunk of hair in his left hand. Loki moaned against his skin and sucked – lightly at first, then in deeper pulls. Unwittingly, his eyes rolled shut in pleasure.

It had been ages since Godric had given someone his blood. The sensation of feeding another took him by surprise. He heard himself gasp and his knees went weak. His hand found its way around Loki's throat to better feel each and every swallow of his ancient blood and he buried his nose into the soft, black curtain of the god's hair. Engulfed by his divine aroma, Godric's fangs sprung loose. He was unable to stop himself and inhaled the scent deeply, letting its rich decadence roll over his senses. The slow, terrifying rhythm of the immortal's heartbeat called to his basest instincts. He wanted to bury his fangs into that unnatural pulse, feel it gush obscenely into his mouth, filling him with power. Godric grazed his teeth over Loki's throat with the lightest of touches, his vision running red…

From somewhere, someone called his name. "It healed," the disembodied voice said. "Godric?" Loki pulled at his arm. The interruption just barely drew him out of the heady fog of bloodlust.

"Oh," was all Godric could manage. He sucked at his aching fangs, swallowing down the saliva that had flooded his mouth. Coming to his senses, he stuck two clinical fingers down the collar of Loki's tunic and felt the welts near his clavicle.

"Ow!" Loki yelped.

"That's all I needed to know. One more round, then." Mentally, he cursed himself. Godric had to get through this without incident. That his blood did not heal the god as effectively as a mortal was inconsequential. The blood tie gave him a fraction of control over Loki; it was the slightest tactical edge that he could not afford to lose. The last thing he needed was to screw up and form a mutual blood bond- if the god's blood didn't kill him, that was.

"I don't need to remind you not to bite me, right?" Loki asked, one eyebrow crooked.

"Of course not." Godric snapped. He consciously stopped breathing and bit meanly into his own wrist again, wanting the pain to help disrupt the inevitable intimacy of the exchange. Loki craned his neck to monitor Godric's reaction this time while he slurped greedily at the wound. The vampire stared blankly ahead at the dark television screen.

When his arm healed, Godric pulled away and roughly shoved the sleeve of his sweater back down. Loki was short of breathe and licking his lips. "By the Nine, Godric. I didn't think blood could taste so good -"

"Shut up!" Godric shouted at him, rattled. There was no easy way to describe the blood tie that had bloomed over the last twenty minutes. Loki felt unusually loud in his head, almost like the bond he shared with his child when he opened it fully. Godric struggled to quell it. The god was excited and pleased and eager. He also wanted more of his blood.

"Shh!" he hissed. The tie flipped and retracted slightly. Godric closed his eyes as he mentally wrestled with it, compacting it and putting it into a more manageable place in his mind. "There," he sighed.

Loki was watching him curiously. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, fine. You're very noisy in my head. I'll get used to it." A devious smile threaded its way across Godric's face. Loki's face was smeared in crimson. "You eat like a piglet. Go wash up."

The god touched his sticky chin in realization. "That way?" he pointed. Godric nodded and Loki stalked off to the bathroom.

"Oh, and Loki?" Godric called after him.

"Hmm?" He spun on his heels.

"You are mine now."

Loki froze in the unlit hallway. "Come again?"

"From now on, on this realm, you are mine."

The god did not make a sound.

"You don't know anything about our laws, do you? You have taken my blood willingly and I invoke my right to a blood claim on you. No one may lay a finger on you without bringing the full wrath of my justice upon their head, be they supernatural or otherwise. Understand?"

Loki, too stunned to answer, slowly nodded and disappeared down the hall.

While he was in the bathroom, Godric quickly packed a suitcase with enough donor blood to supply him for several months. In a real pinch, he could make it stretch for half a year or more, as he really required very little these days. In another valise, he tucked his short gladius sword and taped quite a few other weapons into the liner, then filled it with clothing.

"You can't wear that on Asgard," Loki remarked from the doorway.

"What do you propose?" Godric asked, staring at the stack of cashmere sweaters he had selected.

Loki bit his lip and then concentrating, dumped a pile of clothing onto Godric's large bed.

"Good god. What else do you keep in that magic closet of yours?" the vampire said with a laugh.

Loki gave a wry smile and began picking through the mess. He culled everything green and tossed it aside. Apparently he wasn't willing to share his signature color. Godric discovered a slinky emerald dress with cap sleeves and held it up with a quirked eyebrow.

"It's a long story," Loki said and snatched the gown.

Godric sat on the edge of the mattress. "I believe I have time."

"I was a bridesmaid," he explained.

"Who was the lucky lady?"

The god gave him an exasperated look. "Thor."

The vampire howled and slapped his knee. Although Loki seemed more than determined to keep a straight face, even he started laughing.

"Here. Try these." Loki flung several black tunics at him. Godric fumbled for a moment with the complicated buckles before he figured out how the garment unclasped and slipped it over his own clothing. He inspected himself in a full length mirror by his wardrobe.

"I look like an idiot," he declared.

"You could try the dress, if you prefer" Loki teased. "It's just long and a bit roomy in the shoulders. I can fix it." Unleashing thin tendrils of magic from his hands, Loki knelt at the vampire's side and began to tailor the shirt by pulling at its edges. He hummed a little song while he worked. He similarly fashioned the other tunic before moving on to a pair of pants. He folded the cuffs inside several times and zapped them with more magic, then pinched the waist in the same way. "There. That will do for now," he announced with an air of satisfaction.

Godric emerged from his walk-in closet having changed into the full Asgardian ensemble. He twisted and turned, flexing his knees and shoulders. Despite appearing to be made of leather and metal and being quite form fitting, the fabric was remarkably forgiving and light. Loki draped a black hooded cloak over Godric's shoulders as a finishing touch. They both looked thoughtfully at the vampire's reflection in the mirror.

"Why hello, Col." Loki gave a toothy grin.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," he replied with a deep bow. With a clap, Loki changed into equally dark clothing and the mess on the bed disappeared. Godric folded up the extra tunic and placed it into the suitcase. He gestured to the other one full of blood bags. "That needs to be refrigerated as soon as possible at a stable temperature just above freezing. Can that be managed?"

"Consider it done." With a twist of his hands, each of the stainless steel carry-ons vanished as well.

"How do we time the departure to arrive at night?"

"I've pondered the issue. Asgard is a small realm but it rotates slowly. If we leave just after sunrise here, it should put us there with most of the evening to make our way to the palace."

Godric bit his lip. "And the ride in between? In space?"

Loki tugged playfully at his cloak. "I'll make sure you're safe. Even the most ancient of Yggdrasil's pathways are nearly instantaneous. The ride just happens to be a bit…rough."

The two waited until dawn. Godric had Loki rehash the plan multiple times and explain some of the finer points of Asgardian etiquette, while Loki grilled the vampire in his native tongue – a dialect of Old Norse peppered with inflections from the Asgardian court. He corrected his pronunciation more than a few times, but Godric quickly latched on to the subtle differences.

When the rising sun began to pull at Godric, he fixed himself a blood to stay alert. Just as the star that ruled his eternal days and nights slipped over the horizon, he opened the bond with his child and pushed all of his love and affection at Eric. He felt Eric's sudden surprise and happiness, then the connection flat lined into a soft buzz as the Viking collapsed into his day rest. Loki studied Godric as he concentrated.

"What was that? What are you doing?" he demanded.

"Just saying goodbye."

Loki's eyes narrowed. "If you're done with your sentiment, shall we go?"

The sorcerer and the vampire pulled their hoods over their heads and Loki tucked Godric into the folds of his cloak, covering him completely. "Hang on tight," he reminded the shorter man. Godric locked his arms around the god's waist in a vice-like grip. In an instant, the world suddenly felt woozy and with a whoosh and a thick explosion of smoke, they were off.

The speed was incalculable – far faster than Godric had ever flown. They suddenly slammed to a jarring stop and were floating. Loki peeled back the fabric covering Godric's faced and nudged him to look. Godric, fearful that he might be burned, nestled further into the safety of the cloak. Loki poked him again, harder, and he ventured a peek. His mouth promptly fell open. They were suspended somewhere in the universe, dense clouds of illuminated gases in every riot of color, distant stars shimmering in the eternal expansion of space. They seemed to be drifting towards a dark spot in the sky where light bent and disappeared into nothingness. Godric spun around to see where they had come from. A similar wormhole lay behind them. He turned back to try to memorize the vision surrounding them when the immense suction that he'd first felt began forcefully drawing them forward. Loki quickly covered him up and doubled down on his hold around the vampire before they were sucked onwards.

The next tunnel was different. It was just as fast, but they banged and bounced around. Godric could feel himself bruising without having any clear sense of hitting anything. There was a sudden drop and Godric thought surely he would vomit the blood he'd drunk, then they bottomed out in a gut-wrenching stop and shot straight up with a force that, for a brief second, Godric thought he could withstand.

Alas, he could not and darkness overtook him.

~~~OOO~~~

Godric awoke with his head bouncing on his chest and a vaguely familiar rocking motion between his thighs.

"Whattt the…" he slurred.

The G-force of the trip must have knocked him out cold. He strained to open his eyes. His hand felt around to the pommel of a saddle. He was on horseback and there was someone behind him. A thin arm steadied him.

"Shhh," a woman hissed. "There are ravens nearby," she warned. A long sword in her free hand bounced against their thighs. Godric quickly tried to take stock of where he was. He inhaled over his shoulder. The woman was Loki, no doubt, in someone else's form, and they were riding across a narrow trail on a mountainside. The hollow laugh of a raven cackled in the distance. Vaguely he remembered something about ravens acting as Odin's spies. He squirmed in the saddle and pulled his cloak tightly around his shoulders.

Overhead, the stars put on a show that rivaled what he had glimpsed earlier. "Asgard," he breathed and closed his eyes. Every scent, every sound, was utterly new. Something new – after two millennia of the same. His mind strained to absorb the onslaught of information. Thousands upon thousands of plant species he'd never before smelled delighted his nose. Just as many strange chirping and creaking creatures filled his ears with a lyrical evening symphony he'd never before heard. "Gods," he gasped, feeling blood tears well up in his eyes. He touched the warm neck of the horse to ensure it was real.

The woman nudged the animal forward and quickened its pace to a jaunty canter. The trail descended quickly and it wasn't long before they rounded the base of the mountain. The landscape opened into a rolling valley which was cleft by a wide river. The river spread out to the edge of the world and tumbled over rocks where it was met by the sea. Overlooking these stunning falls was the most magnificent citadel Godric had ever beheld. Its twinkling lights lit the hills for miles. At the city's limit lay the soaring gilt towers of the imperial palace. Godric could only shake his head in awe.

The woman urged their mount on through the lowland forest that thinly embroidered the outskirts of the valley. Once in the city, she guided them through abandoned alleyways and backstreet paths. Only occasionally did they pass an armored soldier. No one took notice of them and they moved quickly and undetected.

At a bridge, they crossed the river and were met by a set of high gates. Two guards sat chatting at a checkpoint station. One of the men stood as they approached.

"Lady Sif! I did not see you leave after tonight's feast."

"Likely because you were drunk," the woman behind Godric growled.

The soldier straightened. "No, my lady, on my honor…"

"I jest, Hjalmar. Let us pass. I was sent to retrieve a new servant."

The guard bowed and the other man hurried to open the gate.

"Any chance you want to get into the cups with me later then?" he dared, waggling his eyebrows as they passed. His flirtation was met with a razor sharp blade underneath his chin.

"Maybe I ought to give you a close shave first?" she hissed meanly, then released him from the edge of her sword. She clucked at the horse and they trotted forward over the remaining length of the bridge toward the palace. At a side door, she dismounted and threw the reins at a servant who had been fast asleep in a chair. Godric slipped off and scuttled after her, careful to keep his hood over his eyes. She walked briskly, snapping at various guards and giving curt orders. They were allowed past a series of service rooms and into the great castle itself.

Once inside, they turned down a massive hall flanked on either side by enormous golden columns. The woman pulled him through the shadows, avoiding the hanging brass basins where enchanted fires floated in mid-air. Sounds of a party echoed down the long chamber and the air was heavy with the scent of the oil lamps, incense, and roasted, spiced meat. She pulled them to a halt against a wall, listening. One voice boomed from the feast above all others.

"…And that is when Volstagg and Hogan were bested by the beast! Only I remained to defeat it!" a man bellowed.

The woman rolled her eyes and motioned for Godric to follow. They slipped up a winding set of stairs that spiraled upwards for several floors. Pausing at a door, she waited for the sounds of heavy, clanking footsteps to pass. The patrol guard safely down another corridor, she tugged at Godric's hand and pulled him to an alcove barred by two wooden doors. She rested a tentative hand over the ornate handle. It was an iron sigil in the shape of a hammer. Taking a deep breath, she pushed open the door and they hurried inside.

The room was draped in long crimson curtains that billowed in open windows. Heavy chandeliers held candles that caught the glint of the gold that seemed to cover every surface and piece of furniture. Godric dreaded to think precisely whose rooms they had barged into, but he was certain he already knew. It smelled of mead and sex and armor. These were the private quarters of the crown prince himself.

"What are we doing?!" Godric whispered.

The woman held up a hand to silence him. He pursued her at a near jog through several more doors and nested rooms until they reached an empty smallish chamber. It was a dead end - or so Godric thought. The lady heaved back a thick tapestry depicting two children on a stag hunt. A small door lay tucked in the wall. The woman uttered a few words and there was a clunk. It creaked open.

On the other side lay a room of nearly identical proportions, except that it was lined with shelves that reached the ceiling. Each shelf was crammed with jars and jugs and bags and bundles. Godric started to inspect their contents of powders and dried flowers in the herb pantry, only to be dragged by his sleeve from the storeroom and into the antechamber and subsequently to the main room. The air was musty and it was nearly pitch black. Behind him he heard the sound of a magnesium block striking against steel and an oil lamp filled the hall with light. Godric turned to the woman.

Lady Sif smiled, the lines of her frame shimmered, and Loki reappeared in her place.

"Welcome to Asgard," he purred.


End file.
